


(In)frequently Asked Questions

by AlexMartin (RandomDraconic)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Consensual Possession, M/M, Occult, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomDraconic/pseuds/AlexMartin
Summary: "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."Or dissatisfaction, in Bakura Ryou's case. Even if sating said curiosity means confronting feelings that are best avoided by all parties involved.
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Yami Bakura
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

Bakura Ryou winced as he straightened up to review his work. The sigil on the floor of what had once been his game room was large enough to take up most of the space, every curve triple-checked weeks in advance. He’d gone over each rune and symbol in four kinds of salt: kosher, sea, Himalayan, and iodized table salt, just in case. The downside was that Ryou had to step very carefully around the room, barefoot in case he slipped and smudged any of his handiwork, and almost entirely on tiptoe. His hands were starting to cramp from all the writing, too. 

_It’ll be worth it,_ he told himself as he grabbed the measured bowls of salt from the tray and began to sprinkle with all the finesse of a celebrity chef on TV. _It_ has _to be._

By the time he was done dusting the last of the table salt over the whole design, it was well past five and the sun was starting to set. _Perfect_. Everything he had read suggested that liminal hours, like sunset, were ideal for these sorts of rituals.

Ryou stepped carefully into the inner circle that he’d drawn for himself, then rolled his pants down from his calves and undid the knot keeping his shirt close to his body. If he was going to try this now, he was going to look the part, though he kept his hair tied back in a ponytail. That was just being practical.

He checked the clock on the wall, glanced outside at the window and the bright orange skyline the sun was lowering into. He wanted to get this perfect. He _had_ to get it perfect. The chance of failure this first time was high and while nothing might happen, the other possibility… Ryou shuddered. It didn’t bear thinking about.

He waited until he could see the bottom curve of the sun meet the horizon, casting his shadow across the circle until it stretched into the salt-and-chalk triangle. Ryou took a deep breath and pulled the notebook out of his pocket. He had a few minutes to get through the whole mess of hieratic text.

Good thing he’d been practicing these last few years.

Nothing happened as he recited the first few lines of text. That was fine, expected even. But as he got further and further down the page, nothing changed. The lack of some presence, of _any_ thing set off a nervous flutter in the pit of Ryou’s stomach. He tried to force the fear that this was all for naught out of his head. He neared the end of the page and the worry that he’d mispronounced some word or muddled the order of some characters had become a frantic tattoo in his chest.

He let the last word fall out of his mouth, relieved that, as nervous as he was, he had at least managed to sound steady and confident. If nothing happened… Well, at least it was _nothing_.

The sun vanished below the horizon in silence. 

And then Ryou’s shadow split away from his body. A form began to coalesce from it in the triangle he’d drawn, as the chalk all around began to glow bright red.

“I’ve missed this shape,” the voice he’d been hoping-- and dreading-- to hear chuckled. The Spirit of the Millennium Ring grinned at Ryou from across the summoning circle. His too-sharp teeth looked bloodied in the light, and his hair billowed out behind his head freely. “Did you miss me, Landlord?”

 _It worked. It actually fucking worked._

It took surprisingly little effort to keep himself from audibly cheering his accomplishment. Most of Ryou’s self-control was dedicated to keeping himself from running through the chalk boundaries on the floor and back into the Spirit’s nebulous arms. 

“A bit,” he managed, surprised at how calm he sounded. “Did you miss me, too?” He crossed his arms, both to restrain himself and look determined.

“Terribly.” The Spirit stretched back like a cat just waking up and yelped as his hand hit the invisible barrier formed by the triangle on the ground. The pained look on his face didn’t last long, replaced by a look of interest. “You’ve been studying, have you, Landlord?” He asked in the same smug tone. He rubbed his injured hand as if to soothe the burn from colliding with the edge of his confines. 

_So that works, too._ Good. He didn’t need the Spirit to suddenly burst out to hijack his body-- _or worse_. “I think I learned a fair bit from our time together,” he replied. He was starting to sound just as self-satisfied as the Spirit at the circumstances. 

The Spirit grinned. “You always were a clever one. Though, I will say, you took your sweet time about it.”

“What’s three years after three thousand?” Ryou shrugged, the compliment echoing in his mind. _That’s how he gets you,_ he reminded himself. _Don’t read into it._

The Spirit shrugged right back. “You get used to the flow of time when you have a body, Landlord. You understand.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be. He leaned back as much as he could without touching the chalk-and-salt lines. “But I’m sure you didn’t call me here just to chit-chat, did you, Landlord? No, this circle’s too nice and tight for that.”

The repeated ‘pet’ name was starting to irk Ryou, almost as much as it comforted him. It was an ironic reminder of his role as ‘host’ to the Spirit originally, though he’d had little control as the supposed ‘landlord’, if any at all. The Spirit had paid ‘rent’ by granting his wishes for friends or protection from bullies in his own twisted way back then. It meant the Spirit still saw him as a host, even after all this time. That, or he just wanted to prod Ryou’s sore spots until he snapped and broke the circle. Maybe both.

“Awful lot of salt, though,” the Spirit continued as he crouched to inspect his linework. “Just _one_ kind would’ve been enough. That pinky kind’s mostly useless unless your intent is to spread _healing energies_.” He snorted, and Ryou’s mouth twitched towards an actual smile. He had thought the Himalayan rock salt was overkill.

 _You don’t have eternity to banter,_ he reminded himself. 

“I have a proposal for you.” Ryou unfolded his arms. “For both of us, really.”

That caught the Spirit’s attention. He looked up from the floorboards. “A deal?” He stood up so fast, Ryou thought he heard the snap of a cord suddenly pulled taut. 

“I have questions,” he continued, only to be cut off with a barking laugh. He gritted his teeth and pressed on. “Questions I want answered by _you_.”

“By me?” The Spirit echoed. “Landlord, if I remember correctly-- and I do, don’t deny it,” he added quickly with a knowing smirk. Ryou’s memories of those years were riddled with holes, and they both knew it. “When we parted ways, you wanted nothing more than to be rid of me. Didn’t even say ‘goodbye.’” He sighed loudly, purely for dramatic effect. 

Ryou bit the inside of his cheek. “That was different,” he pointed out. “And it’s not like you don’t benefit from this deal, anyway.”

“Mmm.” The Spirit tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, humming to himself as he thought. The silence between them stretched on longer than Ryou personally would have liked. He was about to say something when he noticed the Spirit’s lips were moving, just barely perceptible. 

_ Is he-- _

The figure’s fingers snapped, and he went back to looking directly at Ryou. “Very well, Landlord.” The Spirit stuck out a hand. “Do we have a deal?” His fingertips just barely grazed the unseen barrier formed by the chalk-and-salt triangle he stood within. Enough to tingle, but not so much that it would actually hurt. 

Ryou eyed it warily. He could already feel his hand reaching out, a gut reaction to the offer. It was awfully tempting to just reach out and take it. To get answers finally.

The Spirit’s grin widened, just a hair. His teeth were gritted. 

_I bet his fingers are burning._

“Actually,” Ryou quickly shoved both hands in his pockets, “I remember that every time we’ve made a deal, it was always in your favour.”

The Spirit’s smile didn’t so much as twitch. “Interesting. How differently we remember it,” he remarked. When Ryou moved only to push his hands further into his jacket, the Spirit finally pulled his hand back. “Who did you learn such mistrust from, I wonder?” The way he raised one eyebrow might have been a show of the tiniest bit of respect.

 _Parasites don’t respect hosts,_ Ryou reminded himself. “I at least have control,” he reminded the Spirit, pulling a piece of chalk out and tapping it idly against his side. He let himself match the Spirit’s unwavering grin. “It’s quite nice being on the other side, actually.”

There was a minute twitch in the Spirit’s brow. Ryou bit back the urge to grin. It was too early to feel like he’d won. “We haven’t discussed what you’ll get in exchange.”

The pale face across from him cocked to one side. “Do I need any reason to help you, Landlord? _I_ trust you.” Coupled with his pout, the Spirit might have been the very picture of innocence if Ryou didn’t know better.

“I think we should be upfront this time around. I’m sure you understand.” Ryou tilted his head to match. They could’ve been mirror images if the Spirit hadn’t broken his act with a snort.

“So you’ll throw me a bone, Landlord. Scraps. _Tch_ .” The Spirit tossed his head. “Do you think I’m _that_ desperate--”

“I’ll let you out of wherever you are now,” Ryou cut in. “I can’t imagine you like it there.”

The Spirit paused for a moment, seriously mulling over the offer. “ _Very_ tempting,” he said, though his voice dripped with disdain. “You’re right, Landlord. I _hate_ it there. But I’m not going to stay caged here, either.”

Ryou couldn’t help it. He winced. He had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but he needed this deal to go through. Badly enough that… “I’ll let you use my body again.”

 _Now_ he had the Spirit’s full attention. His eyes narrowed to slits. “Say that again.”

“I’ll let you use my body again,” Ryou repeated. There was the slightest tremble to his voice that no amount of rigid self-control could calm. “J-just, you’ve got to warn me, and I need to stay awake the whole--”

“Done.” The Spirit stretched his hand again, face dead serious this time. Somehow, that was worse than before. When nothing happened, the Spirit rolled his eyes. “Well, Landlord? Do you want this deal or not?”

Before he could stop himself, demand further negotiation or better terms, Ryou found himself reaching across the circle to take the proffered hand. A jolt of static ran up his arm, and he looked up to see the Spirit grin wide enough that it could have split his face in two.

“My _deepest_ thanks, Landlord,” he hissed. There was a weird echo to it, and Ryou realized with some horror that the same words were coming out of his mouth as well. A second jolt passed through his arm, more painful than the first. He winced at the same time as the Spirit but found that he couldn’t let go of the other’s hand. 

The Spirit was laughing now and Ryou found himself laughing along despite himself, even as pain lanced through his arm a third time, and then a fourth. Each wave was worse than the one before it, and the fifth one left him sobbing through the hysterical laughter.

When the sixth hit, there was a flash in Ryou’s vision, and then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ugh…” Ryou rubbed the egg-sized bump on the back of his head when he came to. The wood floor around him was a mess of salt and ash, and he could barely move his left arm. He managed to pull himself into a sitting position. His left arm dangled uselessly at his side but he could at least wiggle his fingers, so it wasn’t any worse than if he’d slept on it all night.

“About time you woke up.” The Spirit snorted from where he stood in the corner of the room nearest the door. He didn’t move, just leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, a perfect picture of boredom.

Ryou cradled his head in his right hand with a groan. The Spirit, he expected to be there. The fact that his body felt like it had been run over by a truck and then thrown from a blimp though, that part was a surprise. “I feel like shit,” he muttered into his lap. 

There was a chuckle from the corner. “Books don’t mention that part, do they, Landlord?”

“I have a name, you know.” Ryou shot the Spirit a look from between his fingers.

“I thought you appreciated manners,” the Spirit replied, sitting cross legged in midair now. “But if you’d rather be less formal, Landlo--”

“It’s  _ Ryou _ ,” he snapped.

“ _ Ryou _ ,” the Spirit repeated. He seemed to relish saying it. “Well,  _ Ryou _ , if you want us to be on a first-name basis, then I’d appreciate one as well.”

Ryou raised his head, blinking. “You don’t have a name?”

The Spirit rolled his eyes. “I have  _ several _ . Or did your friends leave you out of  _ that _ as well?”

Ryou ignored the jab. “You were human once, yeah? Use that one.” He would have  _ killed _ for aspirin right now. If he could just get his left arm working...

The Spirit raised an eyebrow from where he sat, then shrugged. “If that’s how you want it. You can call me Bakura, then.”

Ryou’s wince was only partly due to the sharp pain that radiated from his shoulder when he tried shaking his limp left arm. “You’re kidding me,” he managed weakly. 

The Spirit-- Bakura shrugged again. “I was just as surprised as you were. Gods love little coincidences like that.” 

“Gods’re assholes, then.” Ryou tried to stand, only to give up when it felt like his head and left shoulder were going to burst. He at least hadn’t made it that far up, so the fall back on his ass was barely more than a bump. 

“Careful, L-- _ Ryou. _ ” Bakura barely moved from his spot in the corner. “That’s my body, too.”

“Like I’d forget,” Ryou grumbled, more to himself. “I don't remember it hurting this bad the first time."

"It didn't." The Spirit was now hovering right in front of Ryou, chin in one hand. 

Ryou snorted. "You weren't the one having spikes driven into your chest."

"It really didn't," Bakura insisted. " _ That _ was stabbing pain, for one. You still had your arm-- Well, after I was done, at least," he added when Ryou shot him another look. "You're so clever, tell me, what's different this time?"

The compliment was a jab this time. Ryou had no patience for it or the smug smile across from him. "I don't know, I'm older? We actually made a deal this time?" He glanced at the Spirit, who nodded encouragingly but said nothing. 

Ryou wished his left arm could move, just to slap the look off his face. Instead he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the growing headache. "I'm not in the mood for your fucking games, Bakura.”

That got him an overly-dramatic sigh. “Poor Landlord--”

“ _ Ryou _ .” 

“--Your head must  _ really _ hurt, if you can’t see the answer right in front of you,” the Spirit continued, ignoring Ryou’s growled correction. He poked Ryou’s chest with a finger. “There’s no Ring this time.”

Ryou pushed the spectral hand aside. “And that means…?” 

“Direct connection.” Bakura leaned back. “Downside is that it’s your body pulling all the heavy lifting, stitching us into one neat little package this time, but there’s perks.”

_ Great. Perks. _ “Does one of them involve my arm moving any time soon?”

Bakura rolled his eyes. “Your arm’s the connection point now,” he pointed out, as if Ryou should’ve reached that conclusion himself. “You really shouldn’t shake on things unless you’re sure of the consequences, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ryou muttered. He tried getting to his feet again, determined to make it to at least the bathroom and its bottles of painkillers. This time he made it to his feet and about a third of the way to standing before nausea kicked his knees out from under him. Before he fell flat on his face on the floor, an arm around his waist pulled him back up. 

The look Bakura gave him as he hoisted Ryou’s right arm around his shoulders wasn’t entirely pitying, to his surprise. “I told you, it’s my body, too,” he reminded him. His tone was more comforting than Ryou was used to from him. Gentle, even.

The ghostly hand around Ryou’s arm was surprisingly warm too. The roiling in his stomach kept him from thinking too hard about how it was possible that an incorporeal spirit was holding him upright. 

“Bathroom,” he croaked, and the Spirit dutifully pulled him there, letting Ryou drag his feet along the floor.

Bakura deposited Ryou in front of the toilet without a single snide comment, and just in time. Ryou hurled the contents of his stomach into its bowl, surprised that there was anything  _ to _ vomit given how little he’d eaten earlier.  _ At least my hair’s tied up,  _ he thought to himself as he rested his forehead against the cool porcelain. The way his guts felt, it was too early to tell if he was about to vomit again or if he could actually move more than half a foot on his own. He was half tempted to just let himself doze off there when he felt something rubbing his back.

“Just helping,” Bakura told him before he could say anything. “I’m not  _ completely _ heartless.”

Ryou opened his mouth, felt his insides churn, and thought better of his attempted snark. Instead, he just let the moment be, minutes stretching on until he realized that he could actually raise his head without tasting bile. 

“Water,” he managed hoarsely, and Bakura filled the glass he kept by the sink and handed it to him. Ryou used half the glass to rinse his mouth out and had just spat it into the toilet bowl when Bakura handed him three oblong white pills. 

“Acetaminophen,” the Spirit told him, answering an unspoken question. Ryou swallowed the pills and the rest of the water gratefully. It’d take a while for them to kick in, but it would hopefully dull some of this. 

When he tried to rise from the floor using the toilet as a support, Bakura swooped back in, ducking under his right arm to support the majority of his weight. Just in time too, since Ryou’s left knee buckled when he tried straightening it. His hasty “thanks” got him a grunt in response, but Bakura didn’t say anything else as he towed Ryou down the hall and into the bedroom. 

Neither of them bothered turning on the lights. Ryou hadn’t changed his bedroom’s layout in years and he had a feeling that Bakura could see in the dark perfectly well. The Spirit helped him into bed, threw a blanket over him, and sat at the foot of bed protectively. 

“Go on,” he said when he noticed Ryou was watching him. “You’ll heal faster if you sleep.” He flapped a hand dismissively at him, as if that settled any objections Ryou might have had.

Ryou let sleep claim him and was glad when it came without any dreams.

He woke up late the next morning. Late for someone his age and much later than he ever managed. It was nearly 11:00 AM and Ryou could see the late morning sun peeking around the thick shades  over his bedroom window. His headache was gone, thankfully, but he found that his left arm was just as limp and unresponsive as before. Not as painful to the touch though, so a small improvement. He could at least sit up without the room swimming.

The empty room. With no one else to be seen.

With no  _ Bakura _ in sight.

Anxiety began to swell in Ryou’s gut. “Bakura?” His voice was thick with phlegm and it took him a minute to clear his throat. “Bakura?” 

“Calm down, I’m still here.” Bakura popped into view at the foot of the bed, exactly where he’d been last night. Any annoyance on his face was quickly replaced with a smug smirk. “Did you miss me  _ that _ much after one night, Ryou? I’m touched.”

His attitude was somehow more irritating without a headache. “I just don’t want you making trouble,” he replied, swinging his legs over the bed to test them. He could stand on his own now, and he ignored the tiny pang of regret that came with that realization. Ryou made his way to the kitchen, careful to keep close to the walls. He could see Bakura following him at a distance, footfalls audible even though he wasn’t physically there. 

Once in the kitchen, Ryou felt stable enough to grab a mug and flip on the electric kettle. Bakura sat on the counter opposite him, watching his host make himself coffee in silence for a moment before he piped up. “Aren’t you going to ask if I want any?”

“No,” Ryou said flatly, shaking the coffee crystals into his mug. He was glad he’d opted for the flip-top canister now. “Can you even drink anything like that?”

“No.” Bakura sighed. “You were so much  _ nicer  _ before. I bet you would’ve offered me coffee then.”

_ It’s too early for this _ .

“I was so much nicer when I didn’t have a  _ choice _ ,” he grumbled. The kettle flicked itself off and Ryou poured scalding-hot water into his coffee cup with more care than usual. He didn’t need third degree burns on top of everything else. He stirred his beverage in silence and only turned around to look at his new-old guest after draining half the mug’s contents. 

Bakura kicked his legs in the air. “So, about our deal,” he started, only for Ryou to shoot him a withering look from over the rim of his mug. 

“Coffee now, deal later.” He took another long sip from his mug. “You  _ do _ understand mornings, yeah?” He set the cat-print mug down on the counter next to Bakura and shuffled to the bathroom.  _ First caffeine, then meds. Then breakfast. _ The thought of food made his stomach twinge.  _ A  _ light _ breakfast. _

The pill organizer was harder to open with just one hand than he’d thought, but Ryou was able to get the section for today open without too much struggle. Scooping the pills up into his one working hand was harder still. He was still fishing for the last tiny white disc when Bakura saw fit to appear again.

“You didn’t have those last time, either,” the Spirit noted, watching over Ryou’s shoulder. “I think I left you in fairly good health, too.”

“Just… hand me that last one, will you?” Ryou pushed the container over, and held out his hand for the last of his daily medications. Bakura dutifully dropped the offending pill in his hand and Ryou shuffled back to the kitchen, where he tossed the lot in his mouth and chased them down with the last of his coffee. Bakura settled himself on a chair this time and began looking around the kitchen with more care than he had before.

“I remember the coffee,” he said finally. “And that mug. But the pills--”

Ryou groaned. “They’re for  _ you _ .”

Bakura blinked at him, then bristled. “You brought me here to ask me questions, and you give me a drug-riddled body in excha--”

Ryou slammed his fist into the counter. “I take them  _ because of you! _ ” He hissed. His left arm was starting to burn and that wasn’t helping his temper any. “So unless you’d like me to never sleep again,  _ please _ . Not another goddamn word about  _ pills _ .” 

He grabbed the cat mug and turned back to the kettle. He needed more coffee, and something to eat, and he needed both about twelve minutes ago. The kettle went back on, and he slotted some bread into the toaster. If it had been possible to slam the lever down, he would have.

Bakura just watched again, wordless. The silence stretched on as Ryou methodically made himself a second mug of instant coffee and watched the toaster. It went on long enough that, with one sip left of his coffee, Ryou finally turned around to face the blank-faced Spirit. It hadn’t been so long that he’d forgotten what he was capable of when Ryou had  _ really _ set him off back then.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I just--”

“You’re not.” There wasn’t any snark in Bakura’s tone, nor any of the anger that Ryou had expected. Ryou felt himself deflate a bit in relief.

“No,” he agreed. “I’m not.”

Bakura turned his head to watch the toaster. “The last time I was… here, you were much nicer,” he observed. “Obedient. A very polite  _ push-over _ .” He snorted, then shrugged. “Makes sense you’d grow a spine since then. I’m not saying you didn’t have one before,” he added, with a sidelong glance at Ryou, “just that you didn’t have one when it was just us _. _ ”

Ryou drank the last of his coffee. His left arm was starting to hurt less, and he could feel his earlier anger slowly drain away with it. There was a  _ ktch!  _ as the toaster popped up, and he grabbed a butter knife with every intent on somehow getting both butter and jam on his toast before the knife was pulled out of his hand. 

“Sit down, Ryou,” Bakura told him, grabbing the slices of toast with his other hand. And Ryou did, watching the Spirit somehow spread butter and raspberry jam on each piece for him. He hadn’t felt this awful before, but even after he’d been hospitalized Bakura had never done anything like this for him. It was… new.

“You’re nicer now,” he reflected. 

Bakura snorted and slid the plate of toast across the countertop towards him. “I put butter on some bread for you, and somehow that’s ‘nicer’ than all the other things I did before?” He rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Ryou filled his mouth with toast before he could say anything else. Helping with breakfast and trapping a bully in a tiny lead figure weren’t exactly comparable, at least from where he stood.

The kitchen was silent until Ryou finished the second slice of toast. “About our deal, La--Ryou.” 

Ryou sighed and swallowed.  _ Of course. _ “If I can manage a shower, you can have the body after that--”

“No, I can’t.” Bakura crossed his arms over his chest. “I can’t use your body while it’s healing.”

Ryou licked a bit of raspberry jam off his thumb. “Never stopped you before.” 

The Spirit grabbed Ryou’s left arm, his fingers like ice cubes pressed against a particularly painful sunburn. It was all Ryou could do to keep from shrieking. “We didn’t have  _ this _ before,” Bakura told him, squeezing to punctuate his words. “So don’t worry about  _ your _ end of the bargain.” He let go, folding his arms in front of him again as Ryou sucked in deep breaths to stay quiet. Any earlier good humour had been wiped from his face, and his red eyes regarded Ryou coldly. 

“Right,” the white-haired man managed once he felt like he could open his mouth without whimpering. “What about our deal?” The tremble was back, damn it.

“You said you have questions for me. I want to know why.” When Ryou hesitated, Bakura added, “And don’t lie. I’ll know if you do.”

“Because you’re in my head?” Silently, Ryou hoped that the same limitations of their shared body applied to his head.

“Because I lived with you for six years.” Bakura tapped a finger against his elbow impatiently, waiting.

Ryou bit the inside of his lower lip, thinking quickly. “I just need to know some things,” he finally answered. “I want the whole story, that’s all.”

Bakura studied him for a minute before leaning back. “You’re still a terrible liar,” he sighed. “At least that hasn’t changed.” 


End file.
